


Breakfast Gone Wrong

by LeeMorrigan



Series: Diana's Memories and Dreams [3]
Category: Justice League (2017), Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Alfred's matchmaking if you squint really hard, Breakfast, Daydreams, Diana daydreams, Diana hasn't let Steve go yet, Diana remembers, Diana takes care of the League, F/M, Heartbreak, Honey, Steve Trevor and Diana Prince OTP, Steve X Diana, dcu - Freeform, taste of home, wondertrev
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 20:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14859947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeeMorrigan/pseuds/LeeMorrigan
Summary: As she sits in her modern-day apartment in Paris, Diana casts her mind back to a terrible breakfast over a campfire on their way to the Front, and she daydreams about what could have happened after a breakfast in a little hotel room, in Veld.





	Breakfast Gone Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Canon-compliant with all the DC movies, so far (June 2018). Assumes Diana and Steve did more than play cards that night in Veld- shows no sex or violence, so swearing or death. I did a little research on food rations for WWI soldiers, I apologize if I got anything wrong, pre-1900 I'm a bit better.  
> Enjoy! And thank you for reading!

Steve sighed. Charlie was still gone, his rifle missing as his bedroll lay empty. Sameer had gone to look for him when Chief announced he would make the morning coffee. Steve had decided to let Diana sleep and offered to cook. In a real kitchen, Steve could make a meal that would do a chef proud. Here, he would have to make do with whatever Chief had packed and the few rations Steve had procured before leaving London.

Quickly putting together some biscuits and bully beef, Steve figured he could at least warm up the biscuits. They were already hard, no sense in making them be cold too. Plus, the smell of warm food might lure Charlie back. It had worked before.

Just as Chief announced the coffee was almost ready, Steve located the item he had most-fervently searched for before leaving. Honey. Nothing could make the biscuits good or the coffee taste like it did back home, but honey could work smaller wonders.

“Is Charlie back?”

Diana. Steve smiled a little at her sleepy tone, while sliding the biscuits into a tin so he could warm them.

“Not yet. Sameer went to look for him. We’re leaving after breakfast.”

Before she could ask, there was a sudden burst of gunfire. Chief and Steve both reached for their guns, with Chief taking a position behind a tree, while Steve reached for Diana and dragged her behind a large boulder. She still hadn’t gotten the “gunshots mean hide” down pat yet.

“Who? The Germans?”

Steve nodded, keeping his eyes searching the area. A tense few minutes passed without any more gunfire. Steve and Chief exchanged a glance, both trying to decide if they ought to try sticking their heads out and risk being shot by the likes of a German-Charlie, or if they ought to keep waiting. Then, a single shot.

“Charlie?”

Chief nodded.

“Don’t shoot!”

Sameer. Steve and Chief moved from their safe spots, Diana right beside Steve. Sameer appeared out from behind some trees, looking as tired and sore as Steve felt. Behind him, Charlie walked in, proud as a prize bull. His gun slung over one shoulder, grinning, and his kilt swaying as he swaggered. Steve almost laughed, until he smelled the char coming from their biscuit tin.

Rushing over, Steve quickly grabbed his scarf and used it to protect his hand as he pulled out the smoking tin. And he thought the biscuits were hard and tasteless before. Opening the tin, he found that the biscuits were mostly charred on the underside.

“Ah, looks like we should ‘ah let the lass cook.”

Steve shot Charlie a threatening glare before the Scotsman took the hint and went to his bedroll, in order to pack up and clean up the mud from his legs and kilt. Sameer just gave Steve a sympathetic shrug and went to catch a few minutes of sleep. Chief came over, offering Steve two mugs of coffee. Steve nodded his thanks, handing Chief a half-burned relic of biscuit. Chief walked off, sticking the hard piece of bread into his coffee to soak it soft, and would likely put some of that marigold stuff on it to sweeten it. Steve had never cared for the little yellow plant, preferring honey if he could get it, maple syrup was his favorite if he were home.

Applying a little honey to one mug of the coffee and to both pieces of burned baked goods, he turned back to where Diana was sitting in her bedroll, shoving her hair back into some fashion Etta had shown her. In the stiff attire of his world, hair in a messy style, boots caked in mud, and wearing not a bit of makeup or perfume, she was a most lovely sight. Steve smiled.

“Here.”

He offered her a mug and one biscuit. She took them with a gracious smile, then scooting over to make room for him in a clear invitation. Steve happily obliged her, taking the seat. The ground was hard and cold as granite in January, the bedroll doing little to alleviate either condition. Diana’s shoulder, however, was quite warm in contrast to nearly everything around them.

“Soak the biscuit a little in the coffee, before you take a bite.”

“Why? Does it flavor the biscuit?”

He grimaced.

“Not really, but it does make it softer so you don’t crack a tooth. Wouldn’t want to return you to your mother with a bunch of broken teeth.”

Diana looked almost as if he had punched her in the gut, before she dipped the biscuit in the coffee, dunking it repeatedly. She almost looked like some of the ladies he had seen dipping cookies into tea, back in London. Except for her rumpled clothing, messy hair, and the horrible tin mug holding campfire coffee for her large, burned biscuit. Come to think of it, she looked nothing like those pretty little London ladies. She was a warrior and a Princess, she would never look like any girl from anywhere he had been.

Expirimentally, Diana took her first bite. Steve watched her face, curious to see the opposite of her first ice cream cone. As expected, she wrinkled her nose and lips in disgust at first. Then, she seemed to pause and consider something, before her pink tongue came out to swipe the little bit of honey that had clung to her upper lip. Her soft brown eyes widened, then she looked over at him.

“A little honey isn’t enough to work miracles, but I figure it softens the disgusting breakfast a little.”

She smiled.

“Thank you.”

Sipping the coffee, she did not make another scrunched up expression. Instead, she smiled over at him as if she had discovered some secret of his. Steve had no doubt she knew more of his secrets than just about anyone.

“There is more honey in the coffee.”

“As I said, can’t work miracles but it can make things a little less disgusting.”

“Steve! Where’s the map?”

Steve sighed. So much for enjoying a nice breakfast with his favorite Amazonian Princess.

“I’ll be right back.”

He left his breakfast sitting there, sure Diana would not touch it though less sure he wouldn’t dump the coffee over Charlie’s head. Turning back, he saw Chief heading over to the campfire, and getting out some of the bully beef.

“Honey is hard to come by, out here.”

“I had thought it might be.”

Chief smiled over at her, opening the bully beef and trying to remind himself that he needed to eat some meat every day. It was better than most of what the British had to offer, yet still revolting. Sometimes he tried to convince himself it was a meal from home.

“Pinch your nose.”

“Pardon?”

“When my mother gave me a medicine that tasting vile, she would pinch my nose. When I could not smell the odor of it, the taste was not as bad. Usually.”

Chief nodded. Turning back to the food, he pinched his nose with one hand and served up the bite with the other. Chewing, he found the Princess’s suggestion was not without merit. It did taste less repulsive.

“Thank you.”

She smiled, eating another bite of her biscuit. Chief smiled, glancing over to see if Steve was still busy with Charlie and the map. Seeing that they were engrossed and Sameer was still snoring in his bed, Chief decided he could share a little info with the Princess.

“Honey is very hard to find out here, practically ambrosia.”

Diana tilted her head questioningly.

“Steve doesn’t usually work so hard to acquire it. Usually, if he is going to go to such trouble for a luxury worth it’s weight in gold, he tries for maple syrup or sugar.”

She smiled, nodding slightly. Clearly, she had understood the hint he was dropping for her. Chief was glad of it. Steve was a good man, one of the better ones Chief had known in the war, and if this woman with them was truly as Chief and Steve believed, Chief wished them both the best.

When Steve came back, Diana handed him back the coffee and biscuit he had left behind. He nodded, taking both as he sat back down next to her.

“Thank you.”

“For what? Dragging you across the mud and ruin, to a deathtrap? Great trip.”

“For trying to make a nice breakfast and,”, she leaned a little closer, “for trying to make it a bit sweeter for me. The honey is delicious.”

He smiled a little, looking down into his mug.

“You’re welcome.”

“And you’re right, these are the hardest things I have ever eaten. I’ve never encountered even a nut so hard as these.”

He chuckled with a slight nod, his shoulders moving with his laughter and his eyes crinkling at the corners. Diana found that she would never tire of seeing him smile or hearing his laughter. She sometimes caught herself wondering what Steve was like, before the War. His face showed plenty signs of smiling, his lips remembering well how to curve, his eyes sparkling brightly, and wrinkles deeply entrenched around those eyes. Yet, he seemed as if he had not smiled in a long time before they teased and talked on the boat to Man’s World.

Leaning a little against the warmth of his shoulder, she offered him a smile of her own. He returned her small smile before sipping his coffee, making a horrible face even as he swallowed the bitter liquid. It was nothing like the coffee on Themyscira, far less strong in its effect, though foul in taste.

“When we return to London, do you think there will be better coffee?”

“No, but there will be tea.”

“What kind?”

“Hot.”

“No, I mean, what flavor?”

“There are different flavors of tea, in Themyscira?”

Diana nodded.

“I’ve only found two kinds so far- good and terrible.”

Diana chortled, making Steve’s smile widen. The woman really was an angel. Letting out a breath to steel his nerves, he took another bite of his biscuit.

“You know,”, he said around a mouthful, “this isn’t too much different than my Aunt Millicent’s cakes she used to make and bring to Christmas dinners. Worse than hardtack and bitter as medicine.”

“Sounds like my mother’s remedies for sick stomachs.”

They had exchanged a chuckle and smile, before he finished his meal in silence as Diana finished a second cup of coffee. It was horrible, yet it was warm and it smelled vaguely like what Antiope used to make over a fire when she would take Diana for a two or three-day trip over the island.

When they were finishing their packing for the day’s journey, she had asked him another question.

“Steve?”

“Yes?”, he returned as he looked up at her.

“When the war is finished and Ares is gone, will you show me this Maple Syrup?”

His smile could have outshone the sun in that moment. It was one Diana knew, then and in the years to come, she would remember as clearly as she could remember the books her mother read to her in childhood or the feel of her gauntlets on her forearms.

“Of course. I warn you, it is sweeter than that ice cream was.”

“Then I look forward to tasting it.”

“And I look forward to introducing you.”

In all the years that had passed since she shared that campfire breakfast, Diana had never forgotten the feel of that hard, cold ground below her bedroll, the taste of the honey on her lips, the smell of the stale coffee, and the warmth of Steve’s shoulder against her own. Or the way he smiled as he spoke of Christmas, maple syrup, ice cream, and honey on biscuits.

In the years after, Chief and she would sometimes eat biscuits or crackers with honey on them, enjoyed with coffee or hot tea, neither saying a word. Neither needing to. They both knew it was a silent toast to old friends and quiet moments before the storm. Even Etta had not entirely understood the look Chief and Diana would share, at Diana’s asking for honey to be put on biscuits.

And now, sitting alone on the balcony of her Paris apartment, Diana was glad of the privacy and quiet. A small plate with fruit and a single honey-covered biscuit, a cup of berry-flavored green tea steaming into the crisp morning air, and all the world around her still seemingly asleep. She could pretend, for a moment, that she was just waiting for Steve to wake and join her.

Alfred had once asked her what she daydreamed of. She had told him of people she had lost, home, and sometimes a simple life. He did not press. Bruce sometimes got lost in thought, though Diana was sure that was more to do with planning, worrying, and sometimes wrestling with his grief that he never quite buried over his parents and his son.

Clark and the others rarely seemed to be lost. Barry might have just been too quick, his mindless moments of daydreaming appearing as only a half-second delay in responding. Arthur was still too guarded for such things, around the League. Victor’s mind also ran so fast that he never seemed lost in thought. Clark was usually just smiling, only rarely looking haunted or lost. Usually around Father’s Day or after he had returned from helping out from a tornado-sighting.

Diana sighed deeply, letting her head fall back and her mind wander back in time. The morning in Veld, before they left on their new horses- horses that would be lucky to be gone before the gas arrived hours later to destroy the warm, charming town. When she woke in an unfamiliar bed, far softer than anything she had slept in back on Themyscira.

The room had smelled of bacon, hot tea, fresh bread, and cheese. Steve had come in, wearing only his breeches, undershirt, and socks, bearing a tray with all the things she smelled. He closed the door quietly behind him with his foot, one toe showing through a hole in the woolen sock. He smiled, seeming almost shy for a moment.

“That is… a bounty.”

“Not much back home, but out here, you’re right. Practically a feast. Charlie and Sameer have already tucked in, Chief probably ate a couple hours ago, so we had better dig in before Charlie calls out for us to get a move on.”

She moved back a bit, letting him have some space to put the food between them. He handed her a small white cup, beautiful little blue and yellow flowers hand-painted onto the sides and handle, a little green vine on the pot. He poured hers before taking up his own cup and serving himself. They smiled and blushed a little at each other, neither speaking.

Diana had handed Steve a fork when he went to hand her the second plate of food, their finger brushing. Hid were so warm, and roughened, the skin chapped a bit from yesterday’s work. Two of his knuckles were a bit swollen and red. She wished she had some of Menolippe’s balm to put on them.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get anything nicer.”

“Steve, this is wonderful. A warm meal, hot tea, and excellent company.”

“When this is all over, would you consider coming to the States? Let me show you around some places, maybe take you to this restaurant I know of, in New York?”

She smiled over the edge of her cup, moving it away to nod.

“I would.”

His smile looked like it might split his face in half.

“You’ll like it. They use spices from all over the world, some are even from Greece. Might almost taste like home.”

She smiled and he pulled a terrible face.

“I’m sorry. That was cruel.”

Reaching, she placed a hand over his.

“I would love to taste this food you speak so highly of. Nothing will taste quite like home, though tasting somewhat like home, would be welcome. Thank you for thinking of it.”

Leaning, Steve pressed a light kiss to her lips, lingering for a second. Their breath intermingling. This close, she could see every scar, freckle, and line in his face, every grey hair, and every facet of his blue irises. She wanted to memorize this, to be able to have this moment tucked away to have later. Antiope used to speak, rarely, of times she wished she could have relived at the snap of her fingers. Diana thought now, she understood what Antiope had meant.

In reality, they had finished in silence, then gotten up and dressed, before joining Charlie, Sameer, and Chief down by the horses. But for now, in Diana’s mind, she could pretend. Pretend they had all the day to waste away in that little room. They could have sat there, talking about the future. Of lazy Sundays with a newspaper and ice cream for lunch. Of children with her waves in their dark hair and his sparkling blue eyes. Journeys back to Themyscira to visit Hippolyta and Menolippe. Of watching the peaceful world around them, bringing the Amazons back into the world of Men, and raising their children in peace and love.

None of it would happen, none of those things had been in the cards for them. Yet, Hippolyta had always called Diana a dreamer and she saw no reason to stop. Sometimes her dreams were all she had left of home, of Steve. And they were often sweeter than memories, as memories made her think of all the things that had been stolen. In dreams, she could pretend nothing had been stolen from her. From Antiope, Menolippe, Hippolyta, Themyscira, or Steve.

Bringing the little biscuit to her lips, Diana took a small bite, savoring the taste. The biscuit was far softer and buttery, compared to that one 100 years ago. The honey less thick. And she could smell the rest of her breakfast, the plants in her little balcony space and in her neighbor’s, the morning dew, and the concrete of the buildings around her. A very different morning than the one in a war-time camp, somewhere in Germany or France.

Raising her cup to the sky, she smiled.

“Good morning, Steve.”

She took a sip, thinking of all she had to do with the League tomorrow. Barry and Victor had something for her to look over, and she also had to take a meeting with Clark about recruiting a new member. And of course, Bruce had invited her to Gotham for the weekend to look over some plans he had for the Hall of Justice and for a new, larger, more durable vehicle to carry them all.

The League had come along just when she needed them and when the world had a great need for a new age of heroes. She just wished her mother, and Antiope, could see it. To see that not all men were corrupt and hateful. That some were kind like Clark, some sweet like Barry, some strong like Arthur, others tender like Victor, a few compassionate like Bruce, and some wise like Alfred. For sure, Alfred would impress Hippolyta.

Diana smiled at the thought of her mother, Queen of the Amazons, and Bruce Wayne’s trusted butler and surrogate father, meeting. She would also invite Mrs.Kent, as the woman who had raised an alien being and stood up to an alien general to protect her superhero-son, was someone Hippolyta would leap at the chance to meet. What a dinner table that would make. Diana smiled. Perhaps someday.

For now, on this morning, she could just be Diana. The woman who had outlived her friends and lover, who still sometimes caught herself turning whenever she heard someone call out for a woman named Etta, still turned to look when she heard certain folk tunes on the piano, watched old silent films starring a certain actor, or visited the cliff where a friend's ashes were spread. Who still visited a certain museum in London that held an old photograph of a smiling WWI pilot in a slightly over-sized uniform and his hat cocked slightly, just so she could stare at that photo for an hour or two, pretending she was waiting for him to come back from a meeting rather than feeling like a widow without ever having been married.

Tomorrow, the League needed her. Barry and Victor had something they wanted to show her in the lab, Arthur wanted her advice on something he refused to talk about over the phone, Clark and she were supposed to go to meet a perspective future League member, and Bruce had plans for the Hall of Justice. He also had plans for a new, larger and more durable vehicle to carry all the League, when needed. Diana decided to enjoy her peace while she had it, before she had to go back to being Wonder Woman. The wisdom of Athena and strength of Hercules awaited her in the morning, but in this moment, she could still be just Diana for a little longer.


End file.
